On This Hollow Drum

Left to wonder
about the beat
of a hollow drum –
broken skin
worn rough
this torn heart within.

 Each precious little fibre
ripped and disconnected -/-
of a picture
now unseen.

And all that’s left
is a torn hide
were butterflies… once danced
but now ~ ~ have flown away.

Raw emotions
the rhythm of a life
what used to beat
now, nothing heard
no reverberation back –
on this hollow drum.